


The Nine Lives of Selina Kyle

by Jenn0509



Series: Red Mirror [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bad Parenting, Child Death, Child Neglect, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Growing Old Together, Growing Up, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Lies, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love/Hate, POV First Person, Past Lives, Personal Growth, Pregnancy, Resurrection, Self-Sacrifice, Star-crossed, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator, Vignette, Violence, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn0509/pseuds/Jenn0509
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to get back into the 'Red' universe, I wrote these chapters detailing the moments between one of Selina's Nine Lives and the next.  Each life builds Selina up, even as it tears her down, giving her insights into just how far she's willing to go and realizations of just what she really needs.</p><p>There will be spoilers to both Red Mirror and Red Stone starting in Chapter 5, and first person depictions of neglect, torture, and violence throughout. Basically, read the tags and know that they will be added to with each new chapter that's posted.<br/>---------<br/>First: "The First time I died I was three years old…I'd been alone for thirty-five days."<br/>Second: "The Second time I died I was nine years old…and doing my best not to be snatched up by Social Services"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of my 'Red' universe, so later chapters will reference events in both Red Mirror and Red Stone, but it's not necessary to read them. I will be posting the final chapters to Red Stone soon! Using this to help get me through some writers block on the main story, so your support would be amazing!

The First time I died I was three years old.

Three year old Selina Monroe drew her first last breath on the floor of a dirty apartment. I’d been alone for thirty five days. The box of Cheerios my mother had left on the floor had been gone in the first five days. I had emptied the bottles of water after three weeks, and it had taken me two days to figure out how to get the water out in the first place.

The gnawing hunger had ended, and my bloated stomach and dry cracked lips were all the pain I felt as I drifted to sleep one last time.

When I woke up, a black cat had somehow found it’s way into the tiny apartment, stepping gingerly over the use needles and cigarette butts to nudge my right hand with the top of it’s head. “Isis.” I had whispered, the name slurred from my age and having just been dead of starvation and dehydration moments earlier. I’d never seen the cat before, but I knew it’s name, somehow. I opened my right hand where the red stone I’d found the day before my mother had left, and the cat purred fiercely, urging me to get up, to move.

So I did.

I teetered on too thin toddler legs, the hunger nibbling at me once more, but my body somehow rehydrated. Isis led me to the window and pawed at the latch, getting it open, and we both looked at the ground below. Isis jumped to one side of the window though, and I followed.

I followed Isis everywhere, and then one day, he started following me. My first death brought my guardian to me, and the poor thing did his best to keep me alive. I wasn’t the easiest Catwoman he’d ever had to watch, but I was one of the best.

For years I hated my mother for leaving me in that place, but I would discover later that she’d died the morning after she left me. Three year old Selina Monroe ceased to exist, and Selina Kyle was born.


	2. Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are going to get longer as Selina gets older, as well as a lot more emotional and in most cases, more conversational. Comments are welcome!

The Second time I died I was six years old.

I’d been living on the streets for over three years, stealing and doing my best not to be snatched up by Social Services. Not that any of them stood a chance at keeping up with a cat like me.

I’d learned a lot from Isis. My balance was unparalleled, my hands swift and light, and I’d never gone more than a couple of days without food. The second time I died, it was late in the evening, but I decided I wanted to take a break from the cold and forget myself for a little while. That meant movie night, followed by a little pickpocketing, naturally.

The movie wasn’t that great, I didn’t understand most of the words, but I liked watching the actors dance. Watching the graceful movements reminded me of the dance lessons I’d snuck into a year before for a couple of weeks. I’d blended in with the other little girls until one of the teachers realized that I didn’t belong to any of the parents present. I was still half avoiding that side of town.

I walked down an alley way, planning my routine back to the nest of blankets I was using as a home. The ground was cold under my feet, the chill radiating through the thin soled shoes I had nearly worn through in the six months I had owned them, stolen from another dance studio and too small now. I was saving up for something special though, a necklace I’d seen in a store, and my main focuses had now become food and money. Isis was trying to convince me to just steal the necklace, but I hadn’t figured out how. I was too small still, my size making it impossible to steal the necklace on my own.

My obsession with the necklace caused me to lose focus on where I was going particularly the people in my surroundings. Instinct jolted me back into awareness just in time to see a boy a couple years older than me walk into an alleyway with his parents. The woman hesitated, looking back at me and gesturing for her husband and son to stop.

I vanished into the shadows before she could reach me. Women like her, with that expression on their faces, were the reason I’d had a couple of close calls with Social Services. I followed them though. Something about the boy intrigued me. Maybe it was his eyes, so clear a blue I could see the color from twenty feet away in the dark.

Isis approached for the first time all evening, panic on his face, but I didn’t react fast enough. Loud popping noises burst through the air and I looked down at my chest where a searing pain was radiating from, blood bubbling out of a circular hole in my skin directly above my heart. I heard the boy scream an instant before I died, my heart shredded by the bullet.

I woke up just as the sirens were nearing, and saw a man step over me, the same man who had shot the gun that had killed me. I remembered him, the others I didn’t, and I made it eight years without seeing him. The police arrived, but I slipped away just the same, vowing never to be killed because of my curiosity again.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
